


pink like the holes of your heart

by ElasticElla



Series: follower milestone ficlets [17]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Divination, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 13:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14286024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: As many muggleborns are, Dot was thrilled, delighted, and a little relieved to learn that magic is indeed real.





	pink like the holes of your heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mamawerewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamawerewolf/gifts).



> title from janelle's pynk (!!!!!)

As many muggleborns are, Dot was thrilled, delighted, and a little relieved to learn that magic is indeed real. That she wasn’t hallucinating when the bird with a broken wing flew away fine or her favorite belt suddenly appeared on her pillow after she’d ransacked her entire room. The professor said she wasn’t allowed to do magic before school, but that’s only with wands. And while the new stick of silver lime is lovely, Dot’s too interested in magic to confine herself to it. 

She spends that summer researching all types of non-wanded magics, from muggle and wizard sources. Most of it is crap or she’s too young to use, but divining is possible- and how better to catch up to her magical classmates than to know the future? 

And while her readings may not be the clearest- she _is_ only eleven after all- she feels much better about going away to Hogwarts. Good enough that even her own mother is fooled by her smile as she leaves her behind at the train station, looking every bit the confident new student. Once she’s on the train, that’s a different story and she gets into the first empty compartment. 

It only takes a few minutes to get situated, and then a few more to become nervous enough to take out her bowl and needles. (She isn’t sure if the train counts as Hogwarts property or not, isn’t going to risk expulsion over impatience to do more magic.)

She carefully sets the seven needles in a starburst, her hand hovering over the bowl when the door slides open, breaking her concentration. 

“Oh thank goodness!” The girl exclaims, entering the compartment swiftly. “I was worried no one would use the old ways, mother says it’s due to the influx of those- I’m sorry, I’ve been terribly rude. I’m Cleophas Graymark, you are?” 

“Dot Rollins, nice to meet you.” 

She hesitates, but slides the door shut behind her, sitting down. “I’ve never seen an acultomancy reading. Have you done one before?” 

“A bunch of times,” Dot says with a smile. “I could maybe teach you?” 

And even though Cleophas isn’t able to make the needles spin like Dot does, it marks the beginning of their friendship. 

.

Five years later, and Dot finds herself in the same compartment, alone with her pink bowl and needles. Only this time she knows wand spells are permitted, has a small locking charm on the door. This time when Cleo interrupts her, she hesitates longer before sitting down. This time, Dot knows why, bitterness tainting any nostalgic reunion. 

“I need you to do my reading.” 

Dot’s lips curl, “You don’t think you could do a better job? Isn’t that part of Circe’s Circle bullshit?” 

“Not now, _please_.”

And maybe if Dot was a hufflepuff, she’d help her once friend, or if she was a social-climbing slytherin, or a fellow gryffindor for house spirit or some foolishness. But Dot’s a ravenclaw, and she likes to hoard her knowledge. 

“Are you thinking about joining Valentine’s group?” 

“My mother-”

“Get out.”

“Dot that’s not-”

“Don’t.”

Cleophas leaves, a tinge of regret as Dot remembers her second year self wishing there was anything she could do to stay friends with her. Hating Cleo’s parents, because if it wasn’t for them Cleo wouldn’t care her mother is a muggle, if it wasn’t for them-

Dot waves a hand over her bowl, her magic blanketing it. She can feel each of the seven needles, sharp and ready, the grains of sand still and waiting. Eyes shut, she dips her fingers into her magic, careful not to reach too far. 

Warmth flickers at her fingertips, “Show me Cleophas.”

When her fingers cool, Dot opens her eyes and begins to read. The first line is broken for a new path, and that’s only expected at the beginning of a new school year. A pair of parallel vertical lines is incoming fortune most likely, and an arch for new romance and-

Dot shakes the bowl clear, doesn’t want to read the rest, blinking quickly. An arranged marriage, that’s what Cleo was going to ask her about. Probably to a fellow pureblood, and Dot doesn’t want to think about it anymore. Cleo hasn’t been her friend for ages, there’s no reason her visit should shake her up so much. 

“There you are!” Alaric exclaims, coming into her compartment, dragging Elias behind him. 

Dot wipes her face, putting the bowl away. “Hey! How were your summers?” 

And as Alaric tells her about pixies getting into his dad’s greenhouse, Dot distances herself more from the odd encounter. (It’s only odd because Dot has pointedly ignored her for the past four years, and they both fell into conversation as though it were regular. Only odd because- no, she can’t go there.)

.

The school year passes quickly, the professors fond of reminding them that they only have a year left before NEWT level. Most of the ravenclaw house goes into a studying frenzy over this, the rest uncaring of their grades, prefer learning by experiencing than reading. (She’s _never_ seen Elias in the library, and yet he gets O’s on nearly every assignment.)

Dot likes to think she’s somewhere in the middle, but when push comes to shove she panics over the future, and studies harder to quell the anxiety. Divination often doesn’t help much- her favorite method with needles has dual opposite meanings, so a reading of her grades could tell her she’d either get an outstanding or troll. It’s the context of other needles and how the magic feels that helps deduce which is the true meaning, and Dot enjoys the extra step- even if it makes self-divination the most unreliable. (It’s also why acultomancy went out of wizarding fashion hundreds of years ago, only a few purebloods related to the line that began it still practicing. Which makes Dot wonder how exactly it came to be known in the muggle world, and that’s something to research when she doesn’t have two feet of potions essay to write.)

And then Professor Herondale, the old hag, decides they should have partners for their next history of magic project. Worse, she’s one of those promoting inter-house unity teachers, and Dot ends up paired with Cleophas. 

Cleophas, who she hasn’t talked to since the train ride even though she’s obviously tried to catch her eye a few times. Cleophas who tried to refriend her in fourth year, and Dot was too bitter and overwhelmed by hormones. Cleophas, the most beautiful girl in their year by far, and Dot’s too gay to deal with this right now. 

Cleophas joins her table when it’s obvious that Dot isn’t about to move. 

Awesome. 

“So um, wanna do the witch burnings?” 

Dot blinks, wonders if Cleo realizes what she just offered to write a paper on. She’s a smart person but maybe she hasn’t read about it before. Most people don’t do history reading for fun, and Dot blames Herondale for making it so boring. 

“I’ve been wanting to learn the flame freezing spell, maybe get some extra credit from Blackthorn. What do you think?” 

“Yeah, okay. Research and then meet up Wednesday night?”

“I have quidditch, Thursday?” 

“Class.” 

Cleo’s eyebrows come together, but she doesn’t ask. “Friday then? The library should be quiet at least.” 

“Yeah.” 

The week passes slowly, her stomach a weird mix of anticipation and nerves. Cleo greets her in the hallways, and Dot finds herself awkwardly waving back most of the time- the halls too loud for talking but too close for waving. Dot hates that she’s even notices, wouldn’t with anyone else. 

(Even _Elias_ picks up on it and how embarrassing is that.)

.

Friday starts off late. She sleeps through the first ten minutes of transfiguration, and runs to class getting ready as she goes, blessing and cursing magic all the while. (She knew it was only a matter of time before Hogwarts’ magic killed her alarm clock, but the small ward she constructed had been holding so well.)

In her haste to get to class, she forgets her potions homework, summoning it in class and accidentally summoning _all_ of her potions homework that was in her room for the past few months. It earns her a lunchtime detention, which means she’ll be stuck cleaning all of her class’s cauldrons by hand. 

It shouldn’t feel like a big deal- it isn’t the first detention on her record and probably won’t be the last- it’s just how everything is going wrong today, hits Dot all the harder. It’s like the universe wants to ensure today is the worst day possible, culminating in the library with Cleophas. 

(A voice that sounds like her mother’s reminds her that dreading something will only make it worse, but it’s too late for that, her stomach in knots.)

After dinner Dot goes to the library, finds her partner easily enough in one of the small group work rooms. The door is all glass, a floating candelabra giving her a movie-star glow, and Dot physically shakes herself out of it before going in. 

“Hey, sorry am I late?” Dot asks, setting up on the opposite side. 

Cleo shakes her head, “Bane assigned _another_ essay, I swear the parchment sellers must be paying him.” 

Dot laughs, rewarded with a flashing grin of bright white teeth. 

“I was thinking I’ll go over my main points, then you, and then we’ll decide how to combine them?” 

Dot nods, pulling out a quill, “Sounds good.” 

“All time recorded to present has around fifty thousand muggles that were executed for ‘witchcraft’. While a few real witches and wizards were caught, they of course used the flame-freezing charm and none were harmed. A few even allowed themselves to be caught multiple times-” 

Dot clears her throat, and Cleo stops with a raised eyebrow. “The Forgotten Fourteen were all murdered witches.” 

Cleophas flips through her notes, frowning. “I didn’t read about that, who were they? Were their wands confiscated somehow?” 

“Muggleborn witches, most too young for schooling and a few in their first years unable to do the charm. A muggle would see them doing accidental magic and,” Dot swallows, “their parents couldn’t do anything. In one case the father handed over their child.” 

Cleophas crosses her arms, “But what about the ministry- surely they would have done _something_?”

“Here,” Dot says, handing her _Modern Miseries_. “The Americans said it was a muggle not magical issue.” 

“What animals,” she spits out, and it takes a beat for Dot to realize she might be talking about the muggles not the politicians. 

The conversation goes stiff and stilted after that, and Dot hates that she dared hope Cleophas might change her mind. That older she wouldn’t just follow how she was brought up. She feels like such a child. 

.

Nearly every reading Dot does of herself includes at least two needles for heartbreak, whether it’s a quick bowl before bed or a more formal affair in her Thursday night independent study. 

Really, it’s rather rude of the fates- she already knows the thing with Cleophas was only in her head and unrequited at that, she doesn’t need confirmation each time she looks to the future. Not to mention, the constant readings are really making it out to be a bigger deal than it is. Like it matters if she’s had a quiet crush on Cleophas forever? So has probably everyone at their school. 

Cleophas continues to greet her in the halls, even walks with her sometimes, their conversations always light and superficial. They’ve become friendly acquaintances, not quite friends yet. It’s such a small change, shouldn’t be notable even, but still, she’s never valued the rushed minutes between classes more.

(Dot doesn’t stop looking in her future though. Perhaps because she’s a masochist at heart or perhaps because she can’t help but hope somehow it’ll all turn around.)

.

The end of the year surprises her, snuck up on her too fast. She could’ve sworn the snow just melted, and it’s already time to go home. She has her own train compartment for the ride, Alaric got a summer internship in hogsmeade and Elias opted to bunk with him. She has passing conversations with some of her housemates, but she isn’t feeling particularly sociable or like indulging in expected nostalgia, so her usual locking spell goes up on the compartment door. 

When Cleophas joins her twenty minutes later, she has to push down a hysterical bubble of laughter. That her year should begin and end like this is indicative of something, something that is too intangible to define right now, a mess of feelings. 

“Hey, I have your book, it was really good- informative,” she says, handing over _Modern Miseries_. “Can I sit?”

“Yeah,” Dot says before she can think better of it. 

“Do you have any summer plans?” 

“Running with centaurs,” Dot says, unable to hold back a smile- still can’t believe Elymus accepted her request. “Over with the Scottish herd.” 

“Wow. I- I’ve never heard of them willing to teach a human.” 

“The stars were in my favor,” Dot half-jokes. “What about you?” 

“Nothing nearly as cool. In August I’m hosting this year’s Graymark Gala, I wanted to invite you. I can’t really compete with your plans though.” 

“I’ll be back on the eleventh, if it’s after. I mean not that you have to invite me or anything-”

“Perfect! It’s the sixteenth. I’d love it if you came,” Cleo says, eyes bright. 

“Yeah, okay,” Dot says, “what’s the attire? Is this your engagement party or…?” 

Cleophas snorts, and Dot flushes, hurriedly adding on, “Sorry pureblood culture escapes me, and you’re hosting it?” 

“No, no, don’t apologize,” she says, a laugh under her words. “It easily could have been if I lost the argument with my mother. Anyways, it’d be really rude of me to bring the girl I’m interested in to an engagement announcement.” 

“Ah,” Dot hums, brain short-circuiting. Cleophas isn’t straight, Dot hadn’t even considered the possibility. 

Cleo reaches out to hold her hands, warmth running up her spine. “And maybe we could go on a date a few days after you’re back, and before the party?” 

Dot nearly doesn’t believe what she’s hearing, that Cleophas is here with her, wants her back. “Yeah, definitely.” 

(And months later, after a handful of summer dates and the gala, after misunderstandings and arguments and reconciliations, after school starts up again, after the student body no longer blinks at seeing them together, does Dot tell her. Tells Cleophas all about how she mangled nearly a year’s worth of predictions because she thought they were impossible. Cleo laughs, kisses the words into her skin, _I’m here, I’m here, I’m here_.)


End file.
